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Brushing aside the personal attack, Beldyn responded, "Perhaps it is only horrible to those that deserve it."

ooc:
No problem. It was only a matter of time before the two had issues. I am trying to walk a fine line and not push too much. I dont want to force anyone to reveal to him that he is responsible for more deaths than anyone one else in DL.

"It's not a game of Final Fantasy where you can step outside the plot for a bit and train up your stats, it's a potentially apocalyptic final chapter in an epic drama." - Brass Tiger Captain

Oops! Sorry About That.

Ulin nearly lost his head the moment he set foot in this new world.

It wasn't just the broken piece of the white concrete fountain that was whipped at his head like a child's ball upon arrival. The Wayfarer's portal had thrust all five of the Exiles of the River of Time upward into the heart of a miniature battle raging on the manicured front lawn of an otherwise innocuous country mansion - directly in the path of the makeshift missile hurled by what appeared to be a kender-shaped iron golem.

“Oops! My apologies friends!” the tiny golem had shouted with an bashful wave.

No, it was the magic. From the moment his feet touched this Krynn's surface it was like he was still standing in the Wayfarer's sanctuary, soaking in the raw power of the huldrefolk's intoxicating temporal sorcery. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. His arm hair raised up like it had been super-charged with static electricity. The entirety of his being tingled with the raw power that infused this world. If he hadn't immediately had to duck he likely would have stood there stupefied for who knows how long, but there was no time to dawdle.

A trio of human-sized clay golems marched across the lawn, trampling flowers and neatly trimmed hedges as they came. Their heads were featureless eggs of brown clay. Their naked bodies were the crudest representation of the human form – like a child's sexless doll given life. They were opposed by an uncanny band of defenders in matching black uniforms. Most of them were kender, but a few might have been human. Simone caught glimpses of golden “Os” stitched into their leather armor or engraved into their belt buckles. They looked similar to the Wyldings they had glimpsed in the Wayfarer's globe. All of the Wyldings appeared to be powerful sorcerers. Even Simone, who didn't use magic like her companions did, could feel the air pulsing with power as these strange humanoids tried to repel the invading force of golems.

When Ulin finally cleared his head he was stunned to see his old pupil Rickart Icingdrake amongst the defenders. Rickart was blasting one of the clay golems with jets of snow and ice from his hands as he skated across the ground on a sheet of ice that formed beneath his feet as he moved. Even with his skin coated with a protective shell of frozen water Ulin knew that giddy smile and infectious laugh anywhere. This version of Rickart had come much farther in his studies of cryomancy then Ulin's pupil had, but his spells didn't seem to be affecting his target. Rickart laughed anyway, selflessly throwing himself in the way as he did so.

The tiny iron golem, which Luccia mentally identified as being made of the precious metal adamantite, appeared to actually be a kender. The glistening little metal man stood waist deep in the ruins of the fountain he had broken apart with his hard metal fingers, protecting a kender woman with long brown hair and a single white streak in the front. Neither of them seemed surprised by the party's sudden arrival, but were yelling and motioning to the group to get out of the way of the golems marching across the yard towards them.

On the other side of the fountain, on the neat dirt path to the mansion's broken down front doors, Beldyn saw some sort of drama unfolding between a blond shirtless Solamnic youth and garishly clad warrior wielding a pair of short swords.

“Seriously bird-boy, unless you want to get those wings clipped permanently I'd advise you get out of the way and let ol' Deathpool do his job!” the warrior was saying.

“Deathpool” wore highly stylized red and black padded armor. He had a quiver of arrows and composite short bow slung over his broad shoulders and countless pouches on his belt. The red mask that hid his face had large misshapen black ovals that threatened to swallow up his eye-holes, making it look like a weird black butterfly had landed in the middle of his face. He appeared to trying to circle around the bare-chested Solamnic youth with the angel wings protruding from his shoulder blades. The boy was pointing a composite short bow at the masked man.

“Over my dead body!” the boy shouted back.

Deathpool shrugged.

“That can be arranged,” he said as he lunged savagely at his prey with both swords.

Ulin heard the familiar laughter, his heart skipping a beat. Seeing Rickart brought back painful memories of failure, but also mixed joy and pride in teaching such a kind soul. Though this was not his student, the emotions caused Ulin to pause and watch the young sorcerer. He wanted to approach, perhaps share a familiar hello. Always the prankster, Rickart had a joke or gag to ruin any situation. But then his eyes locked on the golems. Though smaller, the threat from them was real.

Ulin would be branded a Wylding on this world, and as such, he needed to take care. What would happen if he attacked the golems with magic? Another question racked his brain as well. Would his magic mutate him much like the rest of these sorcerers? Was there a danger to it?

Experimentally, Ulin stretched out with his senses, gathering the intoxicating essence of this strange Krynn. It filled him quicker than ever. To where he usually spent time collecting the life-force about him, this time it almost screamed for wielding. Playing it safe, he gathered a small bit of energy, creating a shield-sized barrier of force should any attacks come his way. The rectangular outlines of it flashed into being, and then disappeared to the casual eye.

He lost his breath as the alien magic suddenly burned through his veins. His whole body pulsed with a red aura. Fighting against the searing pain Ulin vision's became spotty and unclear as he struggled to breath. He thought he might have been flailing about, grasping futilely at his own throat. He didn't know. He didn't care. He was drowning in power.

Then just as suddenly as the magic had gone wild, it found harmony within him. The crimson aura faded away. Uiin was in tune with the magic now, a being one with this world's power in a way he could have never imagined. He suspected he might not even be human anymore, which was a startling thought on it's own. He could hear the Wayfarer's voice buzzing somewhere in the back of his mind and ignored it. As the spots cleared and his breath returned this new world now looked different then it had a few moments ago. He could see exactly how the Wild Magic was woven into the core of each Wylding as they used their gifts. He saw what made each of them special as they drew upon the magic.

This version of Rickart had the blood of an ice elemental in his veins, which allowed him to naturally tap into the powers of cryomancy and skate about on the self-forming ice sheet. The metal kender had the ability to shift between this organic adamantite form and a regular one of flesh and bone. In his metal form, however, he had super-human strength and durability that was staggering to consider as Ulin mentally dissected the magic. Even the human teenager's wings were a gift of the magic, bestowed upon him at birth.

His transformation had linked him to the source of the Wyldings' powers in such a way that he realized with some effort on his part he could recreate those patterns, one-at-a-time, for himself. That revelation stole Ulin's breath again, but this time he was smiling.

OOC -Ulin, DC 11 Fortitude save (d20+7): Natural 1! Fails. I did not expect this to happen so quickly! Ulin is changed by the magic of this world. Magic Damage (1d4): 2.

Please see my forthcoming post on the planner. This is crazy that this happened this way. Ulin still has a move action remaining and everyone else can still do stuff!

Luccia was astonished by the metallic Kender, if only for a moment. The featureless brown one approaching her and Loren gave cause to hands and voice. "Halt!", she ordered. The Huntress' falchion was now prepared for disobedience.

---
Luccia draws her falchion as a move action and talks for free. Not a 'readied action' per se but she is ready to swing if threatened.